Purpose and Promise
by Alexa Skywalker
Summary: Thirteen-year-old Zaylie Hepburn has always wanted to wake up and find herself in a world of kings and queens, heroes and heroines, love and hate, war and magic. One day, as she's reading a fantasy novel, her wish comes true, and she's swept away into the Land of Narnia - and finds herself face to face with one of it's worst villains ever. The White Witch herself.
1. Chapter 1

**So here's my first Narnia FanFic! It starts close to the end of The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe movie, when Edmund is being held captive in the woods by the White Witch.**

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Chapter 1

_This is it. I'm going to die._

_Stop being so melodramatic. You're not gonna die._

_Am, too!_

Sorry. I do that a lot, argue with myself. Maybe that's what got me into this mess, but I'm not sure. Karma or something, you know.

Does that even make any sense? Probably not.

Honestly, though, I have no idea what happened. One second I was in my room, happily reading a fantasy story and drinking hot chocolate. The next, I was face to face with some White Witch calling me an intruder, a spy for The Lion, and some other things I will not repeat.

Whatever or whoever "The Lion" is, if he's willing to get me the heck out of here, I'll be whoever or whatever he wants me to be.

But let me back up a little, so you're not even more confused than I am. My name is Zaylie Aralynn Hepburn, I'm 13 years old, and a total bookworm. There's nothing I love more than a good book. As a matter of fact, if I had one, I think I could be happy sitting here, a prisoner, with my hands tied to a tree behind me, and a bunch of really scary animals staring at me like I'm a Bacon McDouble. Which, especially to that one who looks a lot like a very hairy cow walking on its hind legs, I just might be.

_Precisely why YOU'RE GOING TO DIE!_

Maybe this is what I get for eating that burger at McDonald's, while Denise, my best friend, had a salad.

One of the problems with being a booklover, though, is that it makes my imagination _seriously_ overactive. Which is a very large problem in a situation when I need to keep my cool. Because I swear I'm looking at a dwarf with one eye and some dude who has no freaking _head._ His brain with a face stuck on it is all I can see.

OK, avert my eyes now before I get sick. Oh boy, I am _so_ gonna puke.

OK. Concentrate. There has _got_ to be someone human around for you to stare at while pretending you're still inside the not-so-safety of your imagination.

But all I can see is that crazy lady known as the White Witch and, for some reason, there seems to be this chill about her. She's almost as scary as that mangy wolf guy over there, who's slobbering all over something big and red. I think the red is blood. _Gross._ I always was a big dog fan, but now... I don't think I'll ever be able to look at a puppy again.

"Brought you some company!" A growly voice mocks, throwing down a pale something on the ground beside me. I close my eyes and breathe in carefully, trying to shut out the dwarf's rotten egg stench, all the while praying that the new person beside me will be human.

I know it's safe to open my eyes when I can breathe in without gagging. Very slowly, very carefully, I turn to the tree next to mine and...

YES! It's human! And not only is it human, it's a _boy._

I only just started liking boys, so I'm not too well-versed in who's hot and who's not, but I think the boy before me is pretty darn good-looking. He has brown eyes and kind of curly black hair, at least I think it's black. It might be like mine, though, which is actually such a very dark brown, that it appears black. I guess you'd call it _brown-_black.

Sorry, I'm rambling again.

I need to do what Denise says and con-cen-_trate_ on the boy. He's wearing a brownish sweater and gray shorts with gray socks and brown shoes. Not particularly interesting or particularly good-looking attire, but it's his face that I notice. It's sort of, well, attractive, I guess. Especially with the cute dark hair that flops over into his face, contrasting adorably with his pale skin.

"Hello?" I whisper.

He looks over at me, and it's his eyes that strike me the most. I could see them a little before, but when he turns to face me, the regret in them is almost painful. He can't be more than twelve or thirteen, and I've never seen anyone so young look so sad. I don't know what he saw that put that haunted horror in his eyes, but I do know that I never want to meet up with it.

And that no one our age should ever have to.

"Hello," he whispers back, and when his mouth moves, I notice a bad cut on his lip. Besides that, he has a bruise on his cheek, and maybe more everywhere else. I wonder if someone's been beating him.

I'd bet it's that White Witch.

"Who are you?" I ask.

"Edmund Pevensie." It's only then that I notice his british accent.

He doesn't ask my name, but I offer it anyway. "I'm Zaylie Hepburn."

"Zaylie." He repeats, and I like the way he says it, like its something amazing and exotic. Even though I've always known that it kind of is. "That's a very nice name."

I smile and so does he. He seems like a very nice_ boy_. "Edmund's a great name, too."

You'd think he'd be happy about a compliment, but instead, the smile slips. "Yes, well, I haven't been a very great person as of late."

I don't know why, but I'm eager to comfort him. I guess it's just part of my nature. I love comforting people in pain. Maybe I should be a doctor. Or a candy striper. Once I figure out where I am and how to get the heck out of here. "Well, everybody makes mistakes, Edmund. I'm sure yours wasn't that bad."

He shakes his head, though, and a tiny tear runs from his right eye and trickles down the side of his face, running over the bruise on his cheek before dripping onto his shirt. "It was _terrible_," he murmured.

"What do you mean?"

He shakes his head and closes his eyes, leaning back against his tree. "You don't want to hear about it."

I frown in the following quiet. Of course I want to hear about it! Didn't I just _ask_? But I can tell the problem has more to do with _him_ not wanting to _talk _about it, so I won't push it.

Even though I'd really like to know.

I'm desperate to talk to _someone_, though, so I try another path of conversation. "Have you... have you been here long?"

"Been where? With the White Witch?"

I nod. "Yeah."

"Sort of. I think it's been a couple of days at least." He frowns. "I guess I'm not exactly sure."

Edmund doesn't elaborate, doesn't mention anything about being swept away in the middle of a good book, so I figure he's always been here.

_Darn._ Maybe I'm dreaming or something. "Do you know how we can get out of here? Get away from her?"

He scoffs. "I don't think it's possible, Zaylie."

"Don't be silly!" I say, because I've gotta go and be my normal optimistic self. "Nothing is impossible."

He looks at me, squinting a little. "You think so?"

"Of course."

There's such hope in his eyes when he looks at me that I wonder if, maybe, I should've kept my mouth shut. "And you think we'll find a way out?"

But my head nods without my consent. "Of course we will," I repeat. "Promise."

He smiles a little. "Thank you, Zaylie," and sits happily against his tree again. I lean back against mine, too, but not with a smile on my face. I know I might've just made a very dangerous promise, because I'm really not sure if I can keep it.

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**So what do you think so far? Hope you like and please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned Narnia, but I don't. So I'm comforting myself by writing this little fanfiction.**

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Chapter 2

It's funny how close you can get to a person in one day. Especially when you have no idea where you are, and you happen to be captives of the most evil, dastardly person in wherever the heck you happen to be.

Because that's the thing: my new best friend Edmund doesn't know how he got here either. Hopefully, we'll figure it out together. And _soon_.

In the mean time, though, we're busy getting to know each other. After that smelly dwarf dude left, no one's really been paying attention to us, so, as long as we whisper, we're safe. Edmund just finished telling me how he got into this place called Narnia, and what's happened since he's been here. "I'm pretty awful, aren't I?" he says, when he finishes telling me everything from the wardrobe in the spare room to his betrayal.

Edmund's eyes are downcast, and he looks genuinely sorry for what he did, but his wrongdoings just aren't mine to forgive or to judge. "Well..., everyone makes mistakes, you know. After all, nobody's perfect, Edmund."

He smiles just slightly. "Thanks, Zaylie." But his voice says he's not at all comforted.

I'm working out another nice thing to say when he interrupts my thoughts: "So how'd you get into Narnia?"

"Well," I tell him, glad for the change of subject, "I guess it was just earlier today - or maybe yesterday - but anyway. I was reading a book in my room when this wild wind started up. It whirled around and around my room like a tornado, and then it picked up my iPod and-"

"iPod? What's an iPod?"

I frown at him. "What do you mean, 'what's an iPod?' Doesn't everybody know what an iPod is?"

"Well _I_ don't," he snaps, turning away from me to glare at the ground.

"Sorry." I wince. "I didn't mean to sound all know-it-all like that. An iPod is... well, it's a little device... thingy that plays music." Never thought it'd be so hard to explain.

"Plays music?" Edmund frowns, but not like he's still upset. More like he's thinking. "Like a record player?"

"A_ record_ player?" Now _I'm_ frowning and thinking. I look at his clothes again, and then something clicks in my head. "What time are you from, Edmund?"

"Time?" he asks, and his mouth dips down again in surprise. "Same as you, I suppose. 1940."

I can only gape at him. "19_40_?"

He nods again. "Yes. Aren't you?"

"No." I shake my head, grinning from ear to ear. This couldn't get cooler! Well, I guess it _could,_ if I wasn't a prisoner and tied to a tree and scared half to death. "I'm from the year 2013!" I say to Edmund. "That's more than seventy years in the future!"

He stares at me, mouth wide open. "You're _not_ serious."

But of course I am, and it's not long before he can tell that I am, too. "Wow," he breathes.

"Wow is_ right_. How old are you anyway?"

"Twelve."

"Well, I'm thirteen. But _technically_ you're older than me. You'd be." I grimace, doing the math in my head. "More than _eighty_ in my time."

He wrinkles his nose, too, but then it softens out and a sadder look steals over his face. "If I ever _get_ back to my time."

I'm about to reassure him that of_ course_ he will, but I already promised I'd get him out of here, and I still don't know how the heck I'm gonna do_ that._

"What time period do you think it is here?" I ask instead, since he's been in Narnia longer than I have.

But Edmund only shrugs, then winces as the tree bark scrapes against his back. "I have no idea. But I think it's... well it's someplace else. A different realm maybe. Everyone calls it Narnia, and I've never heard of one in our world. You are from Earth, right?" he asks, and when I nod, he adds, "Good."

"Zaylie?" he says after a few moments of quiet.

"Yeah?"

"I know you said we'd get out of here, but... how exactly?"

"Um..." I sigh."Honestly, Edmund, I'm not sure. Maybe your siblings and that Lion guy will come along and get us out."

But Edmund's already shaking his head before I even finish. "Why would they? After I betrayed them all for_ Turkish delight_? And besides that, do you really think that one lion would be able to come in here and defeat the Witch's whole army?"

"No ordinary lion could," a voice behind us says, and I jump - well, jerk is more like it since I'm tied up and all. Craning my neck and squinting in the dark, I can just make out a human face peeking out from behind the tree. Even with all I've seen in the White Witch's camp, I still have to do a doubletake when I notice the stubby, brown horns sticking out from the mop of curly hair.

But compared to what I've seen running around the Witch's camp, I don't think I've got any reason to complain.

"As I said," the guy behind the tree continues. "No ordinary lion could, but Aslan most certainly _can_." At that very moment, a ginormous racket erupts from all around us, and I look away from the dude behind the tree to see that we're being attacked! Centaurs and satyrs and toddler-sized badgers rush into the camp, sweeping through the Witch's defenses and destroying everyone in their path.

_Holy crap!_ It's like a freaking _battle_! Somehow, this kind of thing seemed _way_ less scary when I was reading about it in the safety of my book nook.

I'm turning away from the morbid scene before me, when I feel my wrists suddenly loosen up and get free. I jump up and turn around, stumbling as the blood rushes down to my toes and my legs get all pin and needle-y. Holding on to the tree, I stare at the guy who rescued us. Mr. Rescuer has a very long dagger in his hand, is grinning like a maniac, and, with his furry goat legs and horns, must be a faun! After giving him the once-over, I look back at his face and grin like a maniac, too. "Hi! I've always wanted to meet a faun!"

Seriously. It's like a dream of mine.

He keeps smiling right back, though he seems a bit surprised. "Hello to you, too. I've always wanted to meet a human."

"Really?" What's so interesting about humans, anyway? Maybe there's a severe shortage of them around here. Must be, because come to think of it, I haven't met any but the Witch and Edmund.

"Yes." The faun nods. "You were to be the ones who would realize our prophecy. Although," He looks from me to Edmund, who's also free and also struggling to keep his balance on unstable legs. "There seems to be an extra one of you."

"That would probably be me," Edmund says, lowering his head.

"Don't be silly," I reply, pulling away from the tree and taking a few steps in place to test my footing. "I'm always the third, fifth, seventh, or even the ninth wheel. You're definitely the one they're expecting."

Before Edmund can say anything back, a very_ big_ centaur gallops up to us, sword in hand. "What in Narnia are you standing around for, Tarrodour?"

"Well, General, " Mr. Rescuer - who I guess is really called Tarrodour - gestures to me and Edmund. "There are two of them."

The General's dark hair seems to move as he rolls his eyes and lets out a horse-like nicker. "It doesn't matter if there are _twenty _of them. We're to take them all." I smile to myself. I think I like this guy. "Now come on!" The General turns and yells to the rest of the army. "He has been found! Fall back!"

Two normal horses ride up to us. At least, I_ thought_ they were normal, until one opens his mouth and _talks._ "Are we to carry them, General?"

The General nods shortly. "Yes. That would be good."

While the bay horse goes around to Edmund, the palomino one comes to me and nudges my leg with her nose. "Get on."

I swallow, but it seems like this whole escaping thing is pretty darn important, so I don't want to hold up the plan. Taking a deep breath, I throw myself up and on like a clumsy beginner. Which makes sense, since I've only ridden a horse like five times in my whole life.

It takes a few minutes before I'm firmly situated on the horse's back, but when I am, she whispers, "Hold on." And then were off at a rocket-fast pace.

All I can do is grit my teeth and hang on.

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**Belated Merry Christmas to everyone! Thanks for reading and please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hiya! I'm sorry this chapter is so late! There was some sort of problem with the website and I couldn't post! But t****hanks to those of you who have reviewed and followed. It means a lot!**

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Chapter 3

To my great surprise, I don't fall off until we're far enough away that it doesn't matter. Tarrodour helps me get up on the horse again, and this time we set off at something closer to a walk. Which is a huge relief - both to me and my sore bum.

"So," I say, giving Edmund a meaningful glance, "were you sent by the Pevensies?"

The General nods. "Them and Aslan."

I grin, seeing Edmund perk up. "They truly wanted you to come for me?" he asks.

"Of course." The General cranes his head a bit to look back at us, examining Edmund with a cocked eyebrow. "You are to be one of the Kings, you know."

I can tell from the expression on his face that he _didn't _know. "I'm..." The look on his face is absolutely priceless: eyebrows so high they're hidden in his bangs, and eyes as wide as dinner plates. "I'm to be a _king_?"

The centaur nods, facing forward again. "Yes."

Man of few words, I see. Or horse. Or _man-horse._

"But.. I _can't_ be a king." Edmund's voice pipes up after a few moments, quiet and ashamed, as if he's speaking to himself. "I betrayed you all."

The General turns and looks at him again; it's almost scary that I've no idea what he's thinking behind the black eyes. I'm normally very good at knowing what people are thinking from the looks on their faces, or so I like to tell myself.

Maybe I've just watched too much Psych and Lie To Me.

Anyway, the General looks at Edmund, staring him down for several seconds, and everyone slows, coming to a stop, like we're all holding our breath. As if this world will spin or stop based on the General's reply. I shift back and forth in my seat, because this is getting incredibly awkward, and awkward moments always make me want to either scream, laugh, or say something stupid. I'm trying very hard not to do any of the three.

Finally, the centaur breaks the silence. "We know." Those two little words are the only ones he speaks before we're off at top speed once again.

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The first thing I notice when we get to where we're going is that their "camp" really shouldn't be called a "camp." I mean, there are tents and everything, but... _whoa_. The grounds are like, majorly huge. Like some sort of outdoors hotel or something.

And the tents aren't those boring greens, blacks, and dark blues. They're boldly colored: orange and red and tawny yellow, with big, bright awnings and golden flags waving in the wind. Seriously, the White Witch's ugly, dark, sad excuse for a temporary lodging has nothing on this place.

The second thing I notice is a huge lion. And when I say huge, I mean _huge._ He's gotta be close to the horses' sizes, maybe bigger.

I really hope he's as tame as the horses, too.

As if he read my mind, Tarrodour leans close to me and whispers, "Don't worry, he's hardly a tame lion, but he is kind."

I'm not really sure if that makes any sense, but so long as he's not gonna bite my head off, I'll be the big kitty kat's friend forever.

He barely makes a sound as he pads toward us on the soft, green turf and the large, golden creature is in front of us in seconds. I have to remind myself not to kick the horse into a gallop and run the other way. Or better yet, just hop off and sprint. I'd probably move faster on foot since I wouldn't fall. As much.

But Tarrodour says he's kind, and I trust him. Tarrodour, that is. And if the lion tries to bite me, I'll get the horsey to trample him.

"Greetings Son of Adam," he nods at Edmund, before turning to me, "Daughter of Eve."

_Dude_, the lion_ talks._ But then again, so do the horses, so I'm gonna do my best to just shrug it off.

Once I've done that, I wonder what he meant by those names, since my Mom's name isn't Eve. But then, I think of Adam and Eve from the Bible and realize that that must be what they call humans in this new land. Maybe it's not so far from Florida as I thought.

"Greetings, um..." I trail off, since I don't have any idea who the father of the lion race is.

He chuckles quietly at my confusion and looks straight into my eyes, saying gently, "You may call me, Aslan."

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**Sorry this chapter's so short, but I really like this ending :) Until next time, thanks for reading and please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello peoples! Here's... **

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Chapter 4

I can't explain what I feel when I look into the eyes of Aslan. It's like a warm, fuzzy feeling of pure love just washing over you. The feeling of your Dad's arms around you. Of your Mom's kisses. Of your favorite stuffed animal brushing against your cheek. There's just love, love, _love_ until you're absolutely covered in it with no end in sight.

I can't explain what I see when I peer into His golden-green orbs. Swirls and whirlwinds of the most beautiful colors. Flashes of worlds unknown. Universes filled to the brim with knowledge. The secrets of life. Everything humans ever wanted to know.

I can't explain what I hear. Birds chirping, the most melodic symphony, the sweetest rock ballad. The richest and best of all sounds washes over and into my ears in a wonderful, swelling beauty until I'm practically drowning and I don't even care.

I want to get down on the ground, fall to my knees and worship. Because I already know I'm looking at God.

Can you believe I wanted to trample him with the horse just a few seconds ago?

But He turns away before I can make a fool of myself, and I wonder if Edmund felt what I did. I'd ask, but Aslan's already speaking to him: "Son of Adam."

Edmund's voice shakes when he replies, "S-Sir?"

"Get off your mount and come with me. We have a lot to talk about."

Edmund gulps, his eyes jumping to me for a split second, and I give what I hope is an encouraging smile. I guess it was good enough, because he shoots me a tiny grin before hopping down from his monstrosity of a mount and following the Lion across the hills of grass.

It's just heading into early dawn, and I'm kind of glad, because I have a feeling we'd be like celebrities if everyone were awake to see us arrive. Maybe I can catch a little bit of a snooze before they come get me for... well, whatever it is I've been brought here for.

Which reminds me. "Tarrodour?"

"You may call me Tarry, Daughter of Eve."

I smile. "And you may call me, Zaylie. I was just wondering, um... where exactly _are_ we?"

He looks at me like I just suggested we take down all the tents and go camping on Pluto. "You mean you don't _know_?"

"Would I have asked if I knew?" I try to keep the embarrassed venom out of my voice, but apparently, I didn't do a very good job.

Tarry bows his head a little. "My apologies, Zaylie. Just that... well, how could you be here and not _know_?"

"Well, I was in my bedroom reading a book."

"And?" He prompts, leaning forward a little as if expecting some great tale.

Too bad I have to disappoint. "And nothing. That's it. I was reading a book one second, and there was a huge whirlwind like a tornado the next. Then I was in the White Witch's camp being accused of magic and association with the Lion."

He stares at me for a few seconds and, in the awkward silence, the horse below me shifts. "Um, Daughter of Eve?"

"Yes?"

"Could you get off, please?"

"Oh. _Oh_. Of course." I'm so embarrassed that, even through my dark brown skin, I'm sure my cheeks are a glaring red. "Um... Tarry? Could you, uh, help me get down?"

I swear goat-face is smirking at me, but I'm too humiliated to address it. "Of course, Zaylie." But at least he manages to help me off without an incident. The beautiful, yellow-white horse shakes herself and gives me a short nod. "It was an honor to carry you." She dips her head again in something of a horsey bow, and then gallops away.

Tarry is still smirking when I turn back to him. "_Don't_ say a word."

"Of course not, Zaylie." But he's still grinning like my older brother does every time I trip over my own two feet. "Would you like me to explain more about Narnia now?"

"Yes, please," I say, trying - and failing - to sound dignified.

"Very well, then." He nods. "Narnia is a world."

"A _world_?"

"Yes." Tarry sweeps his arms around, turning in a circle and gesturing to everything around us. "All the way up to those mountains, all the way down to those valleys. Everything you see is Narnia."

_Whoa._ "So I've wandered into another _world_?"

The faun looks at me with a strange expression. "Another world, Daughter of Eve."

"Zaylie," I remind him.

"Sorry, Zaylie."

I nod once, acknowledging the apology, though I'm really not paying any attention to him. Really, I feel like breaking into that Aladdin song. _A whole new world! A dazzling place I never knew!_

I guess Edmund was more than right when he said he thought we were in another realm.

"Zaylie?" Tarry's voice calls me back to the present.

"Hmm?"

"What did you mean by '_another_ world?'"

For a second, I wonder if I should tell him. Then I shrug, figuring he'll find out sooner or later. "The one me and the Kings and Queens come from. It's much different from this one." I sweep my eyes around, taking in the tents, the wide array of wild animals and beings that look like they sprung right out of my favorite fantasy book. "This looks like a cross between some fairy tale and the Middle Ages," I murmur, half to myself.

Tarry looks at me with that confused expression again. "I suppose those are things from... um... your world?"

"Well, yeah. Fairy tales, they're kind of like ancient stories with fairies and fantastical creatures." I'm not sure how to tell him that he doesn't exist except in books and crazy people's heads on Earth - so I don't. "And the Middle Ages are back before modern times."

He nods slowly, as if trying to grasp the concept. "Well, that's... interesting. Is Narnia _anything_ like your world?"

"Not much," I reply. "Except you do have mountains and grass and trees and animals - except ours don't talk - and people."

"No talking animals!" A very large beaver with a voice like a British cabbie approaches, frowning. "You have _no_ talking animals on this other world?"

I shake my head. "None that I've ever met."

"You poor, deprived child." A second beaver comes up beside the first; her voice is kind and caring, like my mother. "To live your life with only the non-speaking ones. What _can _your world have come to?" She shakes her head and tsks like I've missed out on the best part of childhood.

"Well, to be fair, we don't exactly have very many people," Tarry points out.

"You don't?"

"No." He shakes his head. "You, the Kings and Queens... and the White Witch." He grimaces when he mentions the last name. "You're the only ones."

"Who _is_ the White Witch exactly?"

The beavers and my new faun friend exchange frightened glances. "She's not someone you'll ever want to meet," Momma-Beaver says.

I shrug. "Unfortunately, I've already met her. What do you think I was tied up for?"

The two beavers stare at me, surprise clear in their wide eyes and slack jaws. "_You_ met up with the _White Witch_?" Cabbie-Beaver asks, his eyes bugging so big I wonder how they don't pop right out.

"Well, yes."

"And you're alive to tell the story?" Cabbie looks as if he'd like to pinch me to see if I'm real.

"_Clearly_," I say, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. " Why? Does she normally kill people?"

Tarry nods mournfully. "Any humans and anyone who helps them. My cousin Tumnus... he helped Queen Lucy escape the Witch and now, well, he's disappeared." Tarry shakes his head. "Most think he's dead.

I start to open my mouth, then clamp it shut, having no idea what to say. What _do_ you say to someone who's cousin probably died a terrible, torturous death to end this oppression?

Clearing his throat, Tarry blinks away tears and forces a smile. "Would you like to hear more about Narnia?"

I nod quickly - too quickly probably. "Sure."

"Our land was created centuries ago by the great Lion you just saw, Aslan. He is our Lord and the Creator of everything, him and his father, The Emperor Beyond The Sea.

"They've been gone a long time, though, and the White Witch took over-"

"Wait," I interrupt, "didn't they leave someone to lead in their stead? And why'd they leave in the first place?" Seems to me any good rulers would stick around to make sure their people were protected.

Tarry sighs. "No, and we do not know. But we _do_ know that everything they do is for a reason. And we have to _trust_ that reason. The good news is," he goes on, and the smile jumps back on his face, "that winter is ending. After all this time, winter is_ finally_ ending." He gestures towards the flowers blooming and the snow melting off the trees. "And spring is finally returning. As will the rule of Aslan and the rightful Kings and Queens."

"But you'll have to fight the White Witch for it all first, huh?"

He nods. "Yes. But we will succeed."

I don't want to burst his bubble or anything but... "How can you be sure?"

He smiles at me, and it's the warm smile of someone so utterly confident and sure that it's like you can _feel_ yourself growing sure the same way they are. "It's like I told you. We must trust the Lion."

And strangely enough, I think I'm already beginning to.

* * *

The sun is all the way up by the time Edmund and Aslan return. The former looks over at me and smiles a little, so I grin back. Though there's a funny look in his eyes, he seems OK, so I assume the Lion hasn't been too hard on poor Edmund. I'm glad. Even though I haven't known him very long, and I do know he's made some mistakes, I think the kid could really use a break.

A little ways away, one of the tents bursts open, and someone calls my new friend's name. We all turn and see a tall, blonde boy staring at us, holding back a little girl with ginger-brown hair and a much taller teenaged girl with long locks as dark as Edmund's. I could be wrong, but my guess is those are the famous Pevensies, future rulers of Narnia.

The four of them stare at each other for several seconds, perhaps locked in some sort of mind-to-mind conversation I've heard some siblings can have. But when Aslan nods, and Edmund approaches them, they all break out of their trance, smile, and envelop their brother in sweet hugs.

Smiling, I turn away to give them some privacy, hoping I can finally take a nap or something - only to find that the Lord of all Narnia is looking straight at _me_. "Daughter of Eve," He says quietly.

My exhaustion disappears and my breath catches, but I reply without a waver in my voice. "Yes?"

"Come with me." The Lion turns back in the direction he just came from with Edmund. "We have much to discuss as well."

I follow Him silently, wondering what we could possibly have to talk about. But if He's the God of this realm, I suppose He could probably tell me what the heck I'm doing here.

As I catch up with Him, matching the Lion's loping stride, He says, "You're wondering what your purpose is here, young one."

_Whoa._ That was _so_ not a question. It's like He read my mind. "Um... yeah."

"That I cannot tell you."

"You can't?" I didn't mean for it to come out so surprised. It's just that, after He read my mind and all, I was kinda figuring, heck, He must be able to do _anything._

But the Lion only chuckles quietly. "It is not that I don't know, only that it is _your_ path. And your path, you must find yourself."

"Oh." I say. That's... really helpful.

Except that it's _not._

"But you will not be on your own." He doesn't give me a chance to ask what exactly _that_ means before he goes on. "And there is one thing I will tell you."

"Yes?" I say, eager for any information.

"You are here to assist the Pevensies."

I look back over at the group of siblings. The blonde one has a sword tucked in a scabbard, and, though he looks young, I've got this funny feeling that he can use it pretty good. The older girl is wearing a quiver of arrows on her back and a bow slung over her shoulder. Anyone who goes around like that has got to know what they're doing. Only the two youngest don't look like threats, but I'm sure the older two are perfectly capable of imparting their wisdom to their younger brother and sister.

And then there's me. Little old Zaylie Aralynn. "They need _me_?" I ask.

He nods his great, furry mane. "Yes. Each of the Pevensies is vital to the prophecy. But you as well are necessary to the defeat of the White Witch. Believe it or not, you've already begun to help them."

"How?" The word just blurts out of my mouth. Running over the past couple hours in my mind, I can't think of anything I've done that's all that great.

"Did you not encourage Edmund while he sat bound, beaten, and utterly discouraged, held captive by the White Witch?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Never underestimate the power of words, young one. Sometimes they are even more powerful than a sword or a spear."

I think about that for a moment. "So... my job is to encourage them so much they can't possibly fail?"

He chuckles, a deep, golden sound. "You shall find your way, Zaylie Hepburn. I have no doubt of it." Then he winks and strides away, leaving me standing there at the top of a grassy hill for all to see, understanding my purpose no better than I did ten minutes ago.

"Zaylie!" I turn to Edmund's voice calling me and wave back when he waves me down. "Come here!"

I approach Edmund and his siblings, and, with a smile that splits his poor, injured lip, he introduces us. "This is Peter," he gestures toward the tall, blonde boy, "Susan," The bow-and-arrow girl, "and Lucy," the smallest one, who can't be more than eight or nine.

I smile. "Nice to meet you all."

Lucy practically jumps me, she's in such a hurry to give me a hug. "Thank you for taking care of Edmund."

I grin, patting her back. I'm already being recognized by the future _Kings_ and _Queens_ of Narnia. Even if I'm still not sure this isn't some crazy dream, that's pretty sweet. "Oh I didn't do much, really."

"Nonsense," Susan says with a warm smile. "You're part of the people we have to thank for bringing him back alive. Thank you."

If my skin was lighter, I would once again be blushing. "Oh, well... you're uh... you're welcome."

Peter shoots us a grin. "Hungry, you two?"

Edmund and I both nod. The White Witch really doesn't have a hot prisoner treatment policy.

"Then, come on. We were just about to eat breakfast."

And so, I troop off with the future Kings and Queens of Narnia, not sure what I've gotten myself into. But now that I'm safe and about to get some food in my stomach, I'm not sure I care.

* * *

**So as pennance for the last short chapter, here's a relatively long one. Hope you liked, thanks for reading, and please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello! Here's...**

* * *

Chapter 5

A little while later, we're all sitting on a beautiful red-and-black checkered blanket, enjoying a simple but delicious meal of bread, cheese, fruit, and fresh milk. Running my fingers through the sweet, Narnian grass at my side - which _does _somehow seem better than normal Earthian grass - and looking around at the Pevensies, at the camp, at the _beings_ in the camp, I can't help but grow this huge, cheek-splitting smile. Sitting here, looking around, it feels like a fairytale. Like the best day of my life. Like I'm living in a fantasy novel, or I've died and gone to Heaven.

If only I could forget that we're about to go to war, and that, in it, I might _actually_ die.

But for now, for just the next few moments, I _will _forget. Edmund and I are both practically starved and we fill our plates to the max, then stuff our faces with as much as they can hold. Lucy looks over at us and our chipmunk cheeks and bursts into giggles. "Narnia's not going to run out of cheese, you two."

I gulp down what's in my mouth, giggling along with her, and after a couple of seconds, Edmund joins in, then so do Peter and Susan. A release of emotion, I guess. Life has, after all, been quite the whirlwind recently. From what Edmund said, they've gotta be as confused as I am, if not more. They are supposed to _rule_ this country, you know.

Being a _princess_ sounds like a lot of fun. But being a _queen _sounds like a lot of responsibility.

I don't really _do_ a lot of responsibility, so I guess that's why they're here to fulfill the prophecy and I'm not.

"If you like the food so much," Peter interrupts my thoughts, "I'm sure they'll pack some up for you to take when you go back."

This time, we all stop eating. "Go _back_?" Edmund exclaims, and Lucy frowns, saying at the same time, "We're going _back_?"

"You three are. You, too, Zaylie." His eyes flash up from the picnic blanket, and somehow, he manages to stare all three of us in the eyes at one time. "I'm going to stay here and help them fight. When we're finished, I'll come back through the wardrobe."

Susan shakes her head. "No, Peter. They need us. All four – _five – _of us. We can't go back. Not till we've _all_ helped here."

Peter shakes his blonde hair, just as hard as his sister did. "Susan, it's too dangerous for children."

"I'm not a _child_!" Not helpful, I know, but I just couldn't help blurting it out.

Peter's cool, blue eyes land on me, and I realize how much I_ feel_ like a child under his gaze. He really would make a great king. "Well, how old _are _you?" he asks.

I don't want to say. I know it'll only reinforce what he said. But still, I mutter, "Thirteen."

Peter turns back to Susan, eyebrows raised a little as if he's saying, _See?_

"Well, how old are _you_ anyway?" Yes, I _know_. A petty and childish response. Honestly, I couldn't help myself. And I _am _only thirteen.

"Sixteen." He replies, almost smugly, like he's about to add 'so there.' "And Susan's fifteen," he goes on. "That's why she has to go back and take care of you three."

"Well..." I search my mind frantically for an excuse. _I'm_ supposed to be the one keeping them all together; I cannot _already_ be failing at my job. "The Narnian prophecy speaks of all four of you, and for some reason, somewhere, I'm supposed to fit in, too. None of us can turn our back on them or it won't work. Besides," I add the last bit of reasoning that just popped into my head, "Your wardrobe goes back to _your_ time in England. I'm American, born nearly seventy _years_ after you four came through." Everyone's jaw drops, but Edmund's. "That's_ right_." I nod, like it's no big deal. "So I'm staying right here." To punctuate, I take a large bite out of a delicious hunk of bread and cheese.

"I'm not leaving either," Edmund pipes up.

"Nor am I," Lucy chimes decisively.

"Well, I guess that settles it," Susan says. She smiles over at Peter – more of a smirk, actually – as she rises and brushes the crumbs from her beautiful, green dress.

As she begins to walk away, Peter calls after his sister, "Where are you going?"

Susan swings her dark hair over her shoulder to smirk at him once more, holding up her bow and a quiver of arrows. "To get in some practice."

I watch as she strides off, closely followed by a laughing Lucy. Chewing the last bite of my food and licking my fingers, I smile to myself. _First mission accomplished._

* * *

I blink open my dark eyes, yawning and stretching and shaking off the leftover grogginess. Looking up, I see sunlight filter through a sloping sheet of crimson cloth.

I grin. _Still in Narnia._

My plan to bolt off the cot and race outside is immediately thwarted by a painful stiffness in my legs and rear end. I wince, hobbling around the room a few times, hoping that a little exercise will stretch out my muscles and get them working properly again. As I limp, I shake my head. Seriously, _this_ is what I get for riding a horse? That great experience people are always talking about? I'm really not so sure I see the appeal.

But I _do_ understand the invention _and_ the appeal of _motor vehicles. _Seriously, some Narnian needs to invent those.

After the walking and a little stretching, my legs are feeling somewhat better, so I duck out of the tent, grinning again in the Narnian sunlight. I look down at myself, at the beautiful, soft blue fabric of the Narnian dress. It's a bit big – I think it was actually meant for Susan – but it's absolutely _beautiful_. With its slightly fitted bodice, long sleeves, and flowy skirt, this gorgeous gown looks exactly like something you'd see in a Medieval drawing. Honestly, I can't believe it's considered normal, everyday wear here. If I had a dress like this at home, I'd _never_ wear it. Except to prom, maybe. If I could get a date.

"Zaylie! Over here!" I turn towards the voices, smiling at Lucy as she smiles back at me. I jog over to wear they're standing, careful not to trip over the hem of my dress, and check out Susan's progress with the bow and arrow. There's four targets all set up in a row, and my eyes widen at the string of arrows all within inches of the bullseye. "_Whoa_, Susan!" I exclaim. "Have you ever taken archery before?"

She nods. "A little. Back home, Dad taught me a few of the basics." A shadow crosses over her face, and I remember what Edmund said about them being from the 1940's. Maybe her dad's a soldier in the war.

I'm about to say something – try some sort of consolation – but she continues before I can get a single syllable out. "I need some more practice, though."

"More practice!" I scoff, honestly glad for the change of subject. "Those are all near bullseyes!"

She shrugs, lifting the bow again. "Near won't win the war."

"True." I nod slowly. "But it's not like you're an expert or anything. I think you're doing pretty good, especially for a relative beginner. You could cut yourself some slack, you know."

She lowers the arrow, and her and her sister stare at me until I realize why and add, "Cut some slack. It means give yourself a break; don't be so hard on yourself."

"Oh." Susan turns back to the target, shooting another near bullseye. "Well, unfortunately Zaylie, I don't have time to _not_ be hard on myself. We'll be going to war in a few days, and I am fairly certain that the White Witch will not be going easy on _us_."

I let out a small laugh at her warrior-queen attitude, but I really can't argue with it. "You're probably right," I admit, nodding. "I'd better get in some practice myself."

"There's another bow over there." I look to where Lucy's pointing, nodding my thanks as I go over and pick up the bow and the quiver of arrows laying beside it. The Pevensie sisters both watch while I yank a few of Susan's arrows from the targets and prepare to fire my own.

I close my eyes, wrap my fingers around the lower part of the bow, and let my breath out in a careful exhale. _Relax, _my archery instructor always says. _Concentrate._

Relaxing and concentrating. Two things I was never so great at. Still, I feel a calmness, a stillness of perfect relaxation and concentration as I focus on the target. Inhale, exhale...

_Let it free.__  
_

_Twang!_ I let the arrow fly and grin win it hits the target. A _perfect_ bullseye.

"Yes!" I grin, jumping up and almost tripping over the hem of my dress when I come back down. I have _never_ gotten a bullseye before.

Susan's eyes are_ way_ wide when I turn back to her. "Can you teach me to do that?"

I shrug. "No promises, but I can try. Here, can I see your bow?"

She nods, and I take it and her arrow in my hands, showing her how she's holding it, and how I'm holding it at a slightly different angle. "I think you have to bring your elbow up just a _little_ bit more and pull back like this." I pull her elbow just a tad and say, "Now, let it go."

_Twang!_ Bullseye! "I did it!" Susan turns to me, beaming like a kid Lucy's age. "Where did you learn to shoot like that?"

"Oh, I was taking lessons back in 2013." _Back _in 2013. That sounds _so weird._

Lucy cocks her head a little, staring up at us both. "Why?"

"It was just for fun." I shrug. "And, well, I wanted to be like Katniss Everdeen."

"Katniss Everdeen?" Susan asks, stringing up another arrow the way I showed her and hitting another bullseye.

"She's this character in this book, won't be out for another like eighty years or so. But she was really cool. Practically my role model."

"Cool?" Lucy asks me.

"Um... She was a person I wanted to be like."

"Oh," she says. Then, looking over at Susan, "Guess what, Su? I think you're cool."

The older sister smiles down at the younger. "Yeah, well, you're rather below room temperature yourself."

I hold in a laugh at their twist on the expression. I've _gotta_ use that "below room temperature" one sometime.

Lucy picks up a dagger and holds it in her hand, staring at the target for a second. "Wonder if I could make the bullseye."

I smile endearingly at her. There's_ no_ way. "With enough practice, definitely."

She grins back at my encouragement, then tosses with all her strength.

My mouth drops open.

The dagger is stuck in the red.

Me and Susan both turn and stare at her while she beams like mad. "I guess I'm just a natural.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Please review!**

**Author's note: Yes, I used a Hunger Games reference. I simply couldn't help myself. And yes, I know that they're supposed to be younger. But they really didn't look it in the movie (in my opinion) so I made the Pevensies a little bit older.**


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